The Phantom of the Opera is Here
by River Price
Summary: Marinella is a normal high school girl who lives a normal life. When her prized creation falls at the school dance she is inexplicably transported to 1881 in the Opera Garnier, and replaces soprano Christine Daae. Shout out to TheProlificWriterGirl for being the first to favorite this!
1. Chapter 1

_**This is my first story, I hope you like it! I love constructive criticism and also like to know what I'm doing right so I can continue! I don't own anything related to POTO and I DID NOT WRITE THESE SONGS. I wish though...**_

 _'Cause the players gonna play, play, play, play, play, And the haters gonna hate, hate, hate, hate, hate, Baby, I'm just gonna shake, shake, shake, shake, shake, I shake it off, I shake it off._

My school dance was the most stereotypical party with that there could be. People were divided into the social groups, popular girls, popular boys, nerdy girls, and nerdy boys. Of course, I'm a nerdy girl. Gender, and social status. The lights were almost bright enough to bring on epilepsy, and the music was close to making everyone deaf. I did most of the preparations, as I have nothing going on in my life. As I said before, the music was very loud, so everyone noticed that our DJ was slowly bringing down the music, and announced the first slow dance of the night. My group of friends and I go to a seating area, because no popular boys will ask us, and the nerdy ones are too shy. I warm up my arms by rubbing on the gloves I wear, every day, all the time. People always bug me about it, saying "Hey, Marinella! Take off the gloves!" Of course, the answer is always no. I mean, seriously. You would think some people have sense.

Half of the school is dancing with another partner, and we are entertaining ourselves by playing cards that we bring to things like this. Being required to wear a dress, everyone is uncomfortable. Soon the song ends, and you can see the boys sighing, missing their first of four chances to ask a girl. The tempo returns to the upbeat pop music, and we return to the dance floor. I look around the room, at the decorations which my friends and I prepared during this week's study hall. We always complete our homework on the weekends, so we spent 45 minutes each day preparing these lanterns, streamers, and my personal favorite, the chandelier.

Made of chicken wire, Christmas lights, and tissue paper, our chandelier reflected light perfectly, and coloured the gymnasium. The faculty suspended it from the rafters with some jump rope, which we didn't really think was a good idea. At all.

"Mari!" called one of my friends. "They're about to announce the rewards!" The award ceremony had four awards, practically one for each social group. There were two titles, the king and Queen, and the academically achieved. Every once in a while one of the popular girls will win an academic award and rub it in our faces. The principal approached the stage with the four envelopes.

"Welcome to the 35 annual middle school dance. Our first award of the night will go to a boy with academic achievement. Our winner is, Gordan Lewis!" A select few clapped, but the majority went on talking amongst themselves. "Our female winner is, Seanna Casey!" All of my friends sighed, as she was the most annoying girl in the school. Seanna belongs to a very rich family, and they believe that whoever God blessed to be THEIR child should have everything they want. It wouldn't surprise me if they bribed the school, as they have before.

It seemed as if the entire room erupted with applause, and Seanna waltzed up to take her award. For the first time I noticed that the winner for this category received a pageant ribbon. Yeah, her parents bribed the school. I whispered this theory to my friends and they quickly nodded with approval.

"Our King for tonight's dance is," Her words were cut off by a screaming from an 8th grader pointing at the ceiling. Our chandelier was slipping down from the jump ropes that questionably held it. It wouldn't have been scary, if the reason it was falling was because the rafter it held was too. The rafter slipped, and everyone fled from the center of the room. I looked over to see Seanna struggling to run in her high heels. She headed in my direction and used me as a propelling point to put herself away from the danger. I fell down, as did the chandelier. Part of the rafter fell on my arm, making it sear with pain. The floor burn, weight of the rafter, and the everyday throbbing of my arms compiled to make the pain unbearable, and I quickly blacked out.

 _ **Well then, short chapter for the beginning, but things elevated quickly. Mini contest that I am doing- Who was the first person to favorite the first version of my story? Most of you wont know, but some wiiiiill.**_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter 2! The last contest goes for this chapter as well. Winner and correct answer will be announced next week with the next upload.**_

"Nowhere to be found. The guard are out looking as well," said a voice outside the room I was in. What room was I in? It had dark wood floors and stone brick walls, not the tile floors and brick walls of the school. "Well she only went backstage, maybe she wandered into the catwalks," replied a younger sounding voice. Both had accents sounding Parisian. I thought to myself that the rooms style also looks Parisian. So did the dress that I was now wearing. It was white with lace, something worn in early Paris as a semi-formal dress. There was an ornate window that looked at the still rising moon. At the most it had been 2 hrs since the chandelier fell. And the rafters. And my dignity. The door creaked open to show two people, a young girl and a women in her mid-thirties or forties. The girl looked around sixteen, my age. The older women came in with a glass of water.

"Oh, are you alright? We found you backstage," she fussed. The girl introduced herself as Meghan Giry, the women Antoinette Giry. "But everyone calls me Mme. Giry," she followed.

"My name is, um," my name is too Italian so I quickly came up with something else."Vienne Denise," I blurted out, realizing after that Vienne Denise was a famous French artist, but they didn't seem to notice. "Now, have you seen a girl with brown eyes and brown curly hair?" asked Madame Giry.

"No, I haven't been around here before. What city is this?" I asked, starting to sit up more.

"Paris. Did a carriage drop you off in the wrong place?" responded and then asked Meg. "Um, yes. I'm from, uhh, Southern France," I managed out. Geography wasn't something I did well.

I heard the voices of two men and a girl with a heavy Italian accent pass the door.

"But I haven't got my costume for act 3, because someone not finish it! And I 'ATE MY 'AT." Screamed the girl.

"But seniora," pleaded the voices. The Giry's sighs could be heard from the next room. Madame Giry explained, "Seniora Carlotta Guidicelli, our leading soprano is a little, demanding," she said before exiting. Meg quickly explained how the house just got new managers as well. She followed her mother, and I followed her. Through the doorway was a stone hallway, and then an area with no organization at all. Props were placed on various stairs and empty bottles of beer, some shattered, were everywhere. We dodged pieces of broken glass to get to a large theatre. Around 19th century France this theatre would be considered highly sophisticated and would bring in a large profit. It was so glorious compared to the obvious mess backstage.

"The Opera Garnier," announced Meg. The best in all of the opera houses, at least, in the 19th century," she finished, proud of where she worked. 19th century, that was the 1800s! It would explain many things, like the names, style, and the fact that they didn't know who Vienne Denise was. She became popular around 1881. However, it created about a hundred more questions. One, how. Two, why. Three, WTF? Then the classic 'Butterfly theory' questions. If I knew the future, and the outcome of this, wait, I didn't know the outcome of this. We had studied France, but at the weekend before the dance we had stopped before learning about the 'Disaster of Paris', and the infamous Opera Garnier. I'm pretty sure that was where I was. I mean, Meg just told me.

"If managers command," sighed Carlotta. "Monsieur Reyer!" She shouted at the orchestra director. He flipped forward in his booklet, "My diva commands". Meg handed me two pieces of cotton and put the other two in her ears. I followed her actions as Carlotta started singing.

"Think of me, Think of me fondly, When we've said goodbye," she enunciated. Through the 'earphones' I could slightly hear how she was 'a bit', pitchy. Apparently someone else agreed. After the third verse a backdrop came toppling onto Carlotta. Meg screamed and Carlotta smacked her hands against the floor yelling UP UP UP. Meg whispered to me, "He's here, the Phantom of the Opera". After what just happened, I assumed the Phantom was a myth that wasn't so much a myth as a terrorist. The former manager demanded the 'chief of the flies' to come.

"He's responsible for this." Buquet came out, pleading innocence.

"This time I'm really leaving!" Carlotta yelled back. The managers left Buquet and followed her backstage, "These things do happen".

"Si, these things do 'appen. Well until you stoppa these things from happening, these things do NOT happen," she accused, "ADIAMO!" And she left. Madame Giry came back in as everyone was worrying about if Carlotta was coming back.

"I have a message sir, from the Opera Ghost," she said, waving a letter.

"Oh god in heaven you're all obsessed," sighed one of the managers.

"He merely welcomes you to his opera house," she continued

"HIS opera house," the other manager, the taller one with Elvis hair, said.

"He would like you to know that Box five is to be kept empty for his use, and reminds you that his salary is due,"

"His salary?!"

"Monsieur Lefevre gave him 20,000 francs a month. Perhaps you could afford more, with the Vicomte de Changy as your patron," she finished, walking back onstage. At the mention of the Vicomte everyone grew exited.

"I had hoped to make that announcement myself when the Vicomte was to join us for the gala, but it seems we will have to cancel, as we have lost our star," the taller manager said.

"A full house Andre, we shall have to refund a full house!" Ah, so the shorter one with white hair was Andre. Madame Giry looked hopeful for one second before realizing something.

"Chri-" Apparently the missing girl was a possible replacement for La Carlotta. Meg turned to me,

"Do you know anybody?" I shook my head. Everyone left to the dormitories. Meg showed me a bed next to hers. I got some clothes and decided to go with the others to ballet practice. During warm-ups I hummed the tune of the aria. Madame Giry seemed to notice me, but I assumed that it was because I was new and could keep up. After class, and three hours before the gala, she called me aside.

"You did well in practice today," she said,"but I also took notice of your humming, do you sing?"

"A bit, the aria is very nice and Hannibal is one of my favorites," I replied.

"Andre and Firmin still haven't called of the gala, would you show me the aria?" She said this with hope. I was unsure. I had not performed in ages, and when I do I get minimal response. Madame Giry seemed to see my upcoming no, and begged,

"Not finalizing anything, just do two verses." I sighed and nodded. The aria, Think of Me, was simple. More sighing, and I began.

"Think of me, think of me fondly when we've said goodbye. Remember me, once in awhile. Please promise me you'll try," the first verses were scratchy and shy, most likely from being out of practice. I straightened my posture and tried to continue.

"When you find that once again you long to take your heart back and be free, if you ever find a moment, spare a thought for me." Everything after that was blurry, but I was given costumes and a script to look over, as I knew the part already. The play went beautifully, and by act three I was in a white dress with hair clips in my long black hair.

"Think of all the things we've shared and seen. Don't think about the way things might have been."

"Flowers fade, the fruit of summer fade, they have their seasons, so do we. But please promise me that sometime you will think...

Ahhhhh Ahhhhhah ahhhhhhhhhhahhhh

Ahhhh of me!" I threw down the white sequined scarf and bowed to some imaginary entity. As I looked up the crowd was on their feet applauding and throwing flowers.

POV Change!;)

After dropping the backdrop and the letter I left, trusting that Madame Giry would explain to the junk dealers how things worked here. Tonight Christine would take the place of Carlotta in Hannibal and receive massive praise. In the next opera she would replace the whining brat and be the Prima Donna. Why did they insist on her performance anyways? But my plan was laid out. As the hours passed and the gala came I noticed a man of high status in my private box, most likely the new patron. I would have to watch from the rafters. I didn't want to ruin Christine's debut. When the curtain opened on the first scene, where Hannibal saved the cities from Rome. Elisa would take the head in her grand entrance and sing 'Hannibal Comes'. She would fall for the war hero, but get separated as he headed for his wedding. The opera ended with Think of Me. As the curtain rose to the battle Piangi, the male Carlotta, lifted his sword to cut off the head of the Roman general. But Christine didn't enter to take the trophy. Instead a girl with long, wavy, black hair and blue eyes came to take the trophy along with Christine's glory. Furious, I went backstage to find where Christine was, instead of onstage. I found Madame Giry, thankfully alone, and demanded an answer.

"Where is Christine?!" She looked at me with an apologetic look on her face as she said,

"Miss Daae is missing. The guard are out looking for her, but she completely disappeared last night. Instead we found Vienne, who is taking her place right now," she left, as did I. Some ballerinas were coming in to change. 'So Vienne is responsible,' I thought to myself. She would be staying in Christine's room, which held the mirror to the underground maze. I stormed down and paced for a while, thinking how to deal with this. As I reached the crack in the ceiling where I could listen to performances, I could hear Think of Me. The end of the song ended in a flourish, and for a moment I could have sworn it was Christine's sweet voice, but this was different. It had a backbone, strong projection, and emotion in contrast to Christine's delicacy. It was refreshing. Maybe I could show her around. I had everything prepared. With a bit of toughness in her it would be harder, but I believed I would manage. Music presented correctly could do anything. I quickly head down into the labyrinth to make some adjustments.

POV Change

As I took my seat in Box Five, the only open box tonight, I looked out at what I was supporting. The Opera Garnier was refined and extravagant. After seeing backstage I had questioned my investment, but this house pulled together when needed. I did not like how the managers let Carlotta trample them, even though they were new. I'm sure they will also pull together when needed. As the curtain came open on the scene the house grew silent. I heard that Carlotta left, and someone was replacing her. This all happened after I had left, so I wasn't aware. As suspected, a girl with black hair came out. She was much better than Carlotta, as she was trained properly. Her voice hit every not correctly and matched the roughness of Piangi.

The opera was beautiful, a great choice by the previous manager. The last song was a favorite for many. I shifted in my seat as the aria came up. The new girl was beautiful, so very beautiful. I decided to pay her a visit afterwards.

POV Change

After the performance Madame Giry led me to my new dressing room.

"I would assume that you are staying."

"It seems so," I replied. The room was currently filled with flowers, most likely from admirers. Madame Giry closed the door to people asking to see me.

"No!" She yelled out at the fanboys. Heh, even Paris has fanboys. She turned around and swiftly picked up a rose tied with a black ribbon. The motions looked natural, but the surprise on her face was clear.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"H-He would give these to Christine, but, it's just that he knows she isn't here," she stammered. I saw how the rose was old, placed before the show. It had been pushed aside, and in the perfect place for a 'well done' gift, was another rose, blue and glued to a letter with wax. Neither of us had noticed it before. I picked it up and ripped off the blue rose. Inside was a simple piece of paper and a key, but the key was stabbing through the letter, probably dropped in accidentally. Madame Giry left to let me read the letter.

Mon Ange,

Mirror. 12 o'clock tonight. I have some things to discuss with you.

~ Angel of Music

The short letter gave me chills. A grandfather clock in the corner indicated that it was 11:30. I had been here for a whole day. At this point I would assume I was dreaming, but this felt real. Too real for what was going on. A ghost haunting an opera house, the way time moved, and how I was in 2002 a day ago. Alone with my thoughts of escape, I didn't notice the door open. A man with shoulder length brown hair and a crest embroidered on his jacket came in with more flowers.

"Excuse me, I am the new patron, Raoul de Changy. I would like to congratulate you on your debut tonight. At a gala, no less.

"I would like to invite you to a late-night dinner to discuss further performances," he said quickly, as if he was worried. I looked over at the clock, which read 11:45.

"I am sorry, but I have..." I couldn't come up with a viable excuse for not being free at midnight.

"Nonsense, it will just be for a bit, and I will then return you to the dormitories," he persisted.

"I will go get my carriage, and you must change." He exited and closed the door behind him. I was probably imagining it, but I thought I heard the door lock.


	3. Chapter 3

Hey y'all! Well, the few actually reading this... Early upload, Thursday instead of Saturday. "Why?" You ask? Well, my birthday is conveniently on Saturday, and I am traveling to New York tomorrow! Woot! So that's why I uploaded early!

Starting with a POV Change

To prepare for my new student I had to quickly make some sketches, tidy up a bit, and write a new letter. Instead of the typical rose I decided to take one that I had dyed blue. Dodging drunkards attending the rafters, I came to her room. Pushing the rose I had previously set on the table aside and placing a new one took the last of my time. I had barely gotten through the mirror when Madame Giry guided Vienne out of her crowd of admirers. Christine couldn't have done it any better. I was surprised at how easily I had let go of her. One part of my mind said that my work would go to waste, and the other said to look at what's in front of me. A beautiful, tough, talented young lady. They looked at the new rose, and Madame Giry left after stuttering on about how I would know Christine wasn't here. Vienne read the letter and sat down for a minute. I saw how she got a bit frightened. Understandable, but I had never seen fear from Christine. Either she was never afraid, or she couldn't see why she should be. I quietly laughed at myself for thinking Christine was brave, then scolded myself for thinking that. Again, the two sides in my mind battled for right of way. Vienne was also thinking deeply, and jumped a bit when the new patron came in. He carried more flowers, invited her to dinner, and left to get his carriage. Vienne changed out of her costume while I was pacing down the corridor, fuming. This Vicomte wants her? Right after I had decided she would be mine one day?! I ran back to the mirror and used the multiple fireplace kindlers to blow out the candles in the room. Vienne, once again being sensible, went to the door, which I had locked after the Vicomte left. I then did my normal routine, but yelling at the Vicomte.

I had five more minutes before midnight, so I changed out of my costume from tonight. Meg had left me some clothes, and they fit perfectly. Once I stepped out from the boards that gave privacy, I don't know their proper name, all the candles blew out. The room dropped in temperature a bit, probably because the room was emptied of fire. I went to the door, suddenly wanting to go on that date with Raoul. As I thought, it was locked. These doors would lock on both sides, but you needed a key. I scoured the room for a fancy old timey key as the ceiling seemed to shout.  
"Insolent boy, this slave of fashion! Basking in your glory! Ignorant fool, this brave young suitor, sharing in my triumph!"  
"Your triumph? I performed tonight." I could almost hear the gasp. Women in the 1800s didn't speak out much, especially against men.  
"Miss, Carlotta didn't sing tonight. That alone is a triumph for me," said the Phantom of the Opera. Yeah, how did I not get that sooner?

Him. The one who left me the letter. The 'Angel of Music'. I almost laughed. The fearsome Phantom was trying to win over the new chorus girl. It was enough to make the whole 'me time traveling into the past, conveniently landing in a historical disaster' thing better.  
"Especially her replacement, you excelled tonight," he praised.  
"I believe that you had some questions, better ask them, I have somewhere to be," I mocked. I seemed to have hit a nerve there, as he shouted, "You will not go!" I rubbed my gloves nervously, always forgetting that they were there.  
"Where would you prefer I go?"  
"With me." I almost lost it right there.  
"Sure, but where would that be?"  
"Look at your face in the mirror, I am there inside!" Okay, I am so surprised I haven't collapsed on the floor laughing yet. Yet. I looked at the mirror and saw a face. Okay, a bit creepy. The mirror slowly opened to show the Phantom of the Opera, tall, pale, and very handsome. At least the parts you could see. He also wore gloves, but his wrists were visible. He had on a suit, which was normal for guys in France, and covering half his face was a white mask.  
"I am your Angel of Music, come to me Angel of Music," he sung gently. I would have laughed there, but I was interested. I walked through the mirror, to see how he went around doing this.

POV Change

Everything went better than expected. There were moments where I heard her inhale sharply, surprised about how this was turning out. I sounded too desperate, though. I wasn't myself. I led her down the tunnel, newly adorned with candles and cleaned of cobwebs. Christine would have appreciated it. Why hadn't the guard found her? I shook away the thought and looked to see Vienne. She held a small smirk and looked around, interested. I continued forward, looking back every now and then.  
"In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came. That voice which calls to me, and speaks my name. And do I dream again, for now I find The Phantom of the Opera is here, inside my mind." Perfect. Everything was going as planned. If everything stayed on plan, even better. The brief moment of thought was interrupted by my realizing of how I haven't responded.  
"Sing once again with me, our strange duet. My power over you grows stronger yet. And though you turn from me, to glance behind, The Phantom of the Opera is there, inside your mind."  
"Those who have seen your face draw back in fear. I am the mask you wear,"  
"It's me they hear."  
"Your/my spirit and my/your voice, in one combined. The Phantom if the Opera is there, inside your/my mind,"  
We had gone down into the rivers underneath the house and gotten into the boat. She clung onto the front looking out at candles rising from the water. I felt like seeing how well she would do in our next opera, make sure her voice was up to proper standards.  
"Sing, My Angel of Music"  
"He's there, the Phantom of the Opera." She began vocalizing. Simple notes at first, ones even Carlotta could reach without screeching.  
"Sing."  
There, better. She kept going higher and higher. Just one more.  
"Sing for me!"  
The gate to my 'home' rose as I secretly hit an underwater lever with the pole used to steer the boat. I pushed the boat to the stone floor an jumped out, removing my cape.  
"I have brought you to the seat of sweet musics throne. To this kingdom where all must pay homage to music, music. You have come here, for one purpose and one alone. Since the moment I first heard you sing, I have needed you with me, to serve me. To sing for my music, my music."

POV Change

I was mocking him, okay? He took it much more serious than I thought. I played along for a bit, clinging to the front of the boat as we got in, but I was fascinated by the rising candles. This man is a genius. And he wants me. After one day, he wants me.  
The gate rising, very clever, but I caught the trick. When the gate started rising he pushed the boat harder, and more downwards. A lever or button was probably hidden underwater.

After he told me to sing I was kind of confused, I mean, what had I been doing for the past four minutes? So I just vocalized. Came to my mind because of Think of Me. But apparently it wasn't enough. I kept going higher, staying on one note for a bit to take a break, and than E flat 6, I think. When the boat was pushed onto shore he jumped out and flipped his cape on the ground. And the game of holding back my laughter continues.

POV Changey

After I pulled my carriage up to the grand doors of the opera house I noticed how the lights had all gone out. Thinking nothing of it, I grabbed a candle and a holder, lighting it against a streetlight. When I finally found my way to Vienne's room I pulled on the door. Locked. Again, I thought nothing of it. She wouldn't appreciate me barging in anyways. Instead I knocked. Nothing. I pressed my ear to the door, expecting to hear the rustling of clothes. Instead, I heard a male voice, echoed and distant.  
"In all your fantasies, you always knew, that man and mystery,"  
"Were both in you." Vienne.


	4. Chapter 4

**_I THOUGH OF SOMETHING! AHHHH! Get ready for the cliffhanger! I also thought of a way to end the chapter, with a letter reflection an event in the chapter. This chapter is a bit of a mess bcuz of a load of projects (5) due this week. Also, I'm giving ye 7 people reading this another week to answer the question. Cuz one person answered. '-'_**

I was pleased with Vienne's high vocal range. The acoustics down here weren't as good as the house above, making her voice better than I just heard. Getting back to business, I helped her out of the boat and tried to calm her obvious confusion.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses."

"Close your eyes, for your eyes will only tell the truth. And the truth isn't what you want to see. In the dark it is easy to pretend that the truth isn't what it ought to be." My plan for Christine was to show her my mannequin of her. Vienne couldn't see this mannequin, but instead I drew a picture of her hand with an engagement ring on it. I didn't know what her hand looked like as she hadn't taken that part of her costume off yet, so I added the two freckles that she had on her wrist, visible in the theatre lighting. The ring in the drawing was on top in an open box. I thought to myself, why am I progressing so quickly? She seemed familiar. I laughed a bit. She wasn't like that other girl. Not Christine, another.

"The power of the music I write. The power of the music of the night."

POV Change

I was stunned. I mean, no one had ever asked me out, let alone take me to his underground- wait this wasn't normal. I had been thinking of this as something done in Paris as a romantic gesture. While thinking about what one does in this situation, the Phantom, let's call him, I don't know, Erik, was leaning over extending his hand. Taking it, I stood up and got out of the boat.

"Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation. Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination. Silently the senses abandon their defenses," he sung gently. He slowly pulled me up along the walkway adorned with candles. They were everywhere. Pieces of paper carpeted the floor. As we walked through the underground hideout he gestured to sheet music, a piano, and other instruments, continuing,

"Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor. Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender. Hearing is believing, music is deceiving. Hard as lightning, soft as candlelight."

As the pre-arranged song continued, Erik brought me through the scattered papers and finally, to a desk. As the one thing not littered with paper I could see, surprisingly, more paper. But not messy. It was in a stack with one of them off to the side. That piece was drawn on. It was a hand extended to show an engagement ring, which also existed on top of the desk. I turned to ask him who it was, but a small detail stopped me. The two freckles that I had on my wrist. As the realization hit me I felt my knees cave in. Expecting this, Erik caught me and carried me to a nearby bed. As I slowly drifted off I could hear him finish the song.

"You alone can make my song take flight. Help me make the music of the night."

POV Change

She stayed out for the rest of the night and through the early morning. With nothing else to do, I continued on the opera I had been writing. The story of a Lord falling for a local poor girl, and tricking her into his company. I wanted it to be ambitious so I spent the night slamming the keys. It continued for hours until I heard rustling in the back of the cave. I looked back and saw Vienne sitting up and rubbing her head. Turning around, I pretended to still be occupied. She recollected the night slowly, and when she mentioned me I reflexively looked at her, now standing.

"Who was that shape in the shadows? Whose is the face in the mask?" She came up to me, caressing my face. I cherished the gentle moment until I felt a familiar weight disappear. Opening my eyes I saw her with my mask about to look back onto my fully exposed face. She seemed as though she was about to smile. I pushed her back in anger and yelled, "Damn you! You little prying Pandora! You little demon! Is this what you wanted to see?" She opened her mouth to respond, but I knocked over a candle, giving her something else to run from. She scurried to the side, looking back up with wide eyes.

"Curse you! You little lying Dahlia! You little viper! Now you cannot ever be free! Damn you! Curse you!"

I knocked over a few more candles before collapsing onto the small staircase.

"Stranger than you dreamt it, can you even bear to look, or dare to think of me. This lonesome gargoyle who burns in hell, but secretly yearns for heaven, secretly. But Vienne, fear can turn to love! You'll learn to see to find the man behind the monster, this repulsive carcass who seems a beast but secretly dreams of beauty, secretly, secretly. Oh Vienne." Feeling awful for what just happened I turned around and buried my face into my hands. Silent sobbing, I felt a slight poke on my back. I looked to the side and saw Vienne smiling with my mask in her hands. She offered it to me gently, so I grabbed it and put it back where it belonged. Christine wouldn't have been so calm. I helped Vienne up and walked back to the boat.

"Come we must return, those two fools who run my theatre will be missing you."

POV Change

I woke with a small headache. I rubbed my head and tried to collect myself. I remembered there was mist, swirling mist upon a glassy lake. There were candles all around and on the lake there was a boat. And in the boat there was, a man. As I thought aloud I looked to Erik. He was by his piano, scribbling on sheet music. I walked over the staircase to the piano, careful not to trip on the rocky floor. I caressed his face to hush any alarm, and then I pulled off his mask. Erik knew something was wrong immediately, and shoved me to the ground. I had only caught a short glimpse of his face, but I saw a dull pink area poking out of his hair line. That settled it, he had a wig. I smiled a bit at the fact the only guy here with a good sense of style had a wig. I snapped back to reality as he started to swear at me. I backed up a bit, terrified. Erik knocked over candle after candle. He looked remorseful as he buried his face in his hands. Putting on an apologetic smile I prodded his back with his mask. He looked over with the good side of his face and grabbed the mask. All he said was that it was time to leave. At least he never noticed that I took the ring.

POV Change

As everyone parted their separate ways the opera house began its daily routine. The cleaning staff would arrive early to polish the ornaments and the stage floor. Next the managers came to start the business due yesterday. The orchestra and performers followed soon after, missing Vienne. As the arguments of who sent what continued they were oblivious to the fact that the Phantom stood nearby, laughing at their petty disagreement.

Erik normally was there to catch up on the progress of his opera house. He often daydreamed about Christine, but today was all Vienne. The only thing to stop him from his fantasy was the Paris Guard entering.

"Miss Daae has been returned. She was found lost in an urban area of Southern France. Her caretaker will be watching over her for the next week."

No one could be more excited, yet no one could be more indifferent than Erik. Vienne, he had chosen Vienne. For all he cared the Vicomte could have Christine. But she was the original. Erik finally decided to choose himself for once.

Besides, no one could ever replace the first girl he loved. As a boy he met someone and saw her year after year. It was very confusing, but was always the highlight of his year. When the visits stopped I was quite depressed that she was gone, and nobody could replace Marinella.

Letters of Memory 1~ Vienne on 'Stranger than You Dreamt It'

—

As curiosity took over I decided to show myself what I had previously feared. From personal experience I knew how it felt to live with a deformity, and I had felt alone in the world. Except in 5th grade, where a boy a year older started to come out to see me every year. He had a birth deformity that I never saw. Erik's mask reminded me of his. It is also why I called him Erik, which was the name of the boy. They were so similar yet so different. Anyways, I had never seen his deformity, so I was interested to see one besides my own. In the small moments when he wasn't swearing at me I tried to explain, but apparently he didn't notice. One day he will, I know.

 ** _IVE DONE SOMETHING. IM SORRY. Does anyone else think that everybody's last word or phrase reflect their character?_**

 ** _Erik-The Music of the Night_**

 ** _Christine- Each morning_**

 ** _Raoul- Me (lol)_**


	5. Pause

**Note- I will not be uploading for a bit due to exams. At the end of the month I will hopefully spam update all the stuff I've written. I will also start a new story called 'The Random Apocalypse of The Phantom of the Opera'. My friend will help me with this new series of randomness!**

 **-River**


End file.
